Breathless in Boystories

Ever laughed so hard you could barely breathe?

It started with me going random in the hallway.
I do that now and again,
okay, more often than now and again.
Okay, okay, I go random with the boys whenever I can.

Going random?
It’s the stuff I do for my own amusement,
the unexpected things I do in front of or to the boys
that they find simply bizarre
coming from an adult.

• Sometimes I stand in the hallway as they walk by
  and waggle my fingers in front of my nose at whoever makes eye contact.
• Sometimes I throw pens at the boys sitting in my office.
  (I’ve got a lot of cheap pens and I’m deadly fast and accurate in my aim.)
• Sometimes I speak nonsense out of the blue
  Annáll nathrach, orth’ bháis’s bethad, do chél dénmha,
  just to hear them try and guess what language it is.
  French? No.
  Mandarin? No.
  Latin? Nope.
  They never guess that it’s the Charm of Making in Old Irish
  as interpreted by the 1981 film Excalibur.
  Go figure.

Today it was after school when I went a bit random.
It was that intensely annoying half hour between when the boys are released
and when a certain under-enthusiastic administrative assistant is allowed to escape.
I was seriously unthrilled with being wage incarcerated as the minutes slowly ticked by.

So I left the mountainous piles of paperwork on my desk
(that I was mentally incapable of plodding through for a single second more)
and ventured out in search of mischief.
There were only a few boys here and there
but I was determined to make the most of whoever was available.

I had a half-sized notebook in hand and,
knowing full well that the administration would not approve,
I started counting coup.

Two freshmen were walking towards me, completely unaware.
I kept a straight face and a steady pace until they were about to pass me,
then,
thwap!
I slapped my notebook dramatically against the nearer boy’s bicep,
producing a satisfyingly loud but completely painless impact.

Stereophonic boy bafflement -“What?!”

Smiling -
“I just needed to bap someone.
Thank you for being a lovely target!”

Laughing in a slightly confused manner, the two boys continued on their way.

A few steps further down the hallway and
thwap!
I pegged a junior with my notebook.

“Hey! Ms. Mack? What made you do that?”

“What makes guys beat on the lockers as they walk down the hall?”

Grin - “I don’t know.”

“Me neither, but somehow today I’m finding myself empathizing
with the need to just bonk things.”

“I’m not a thing!’

“Things? Boys?
They’re not interchangeable?”

“Okay, then. Ms. Mack, you have a nice day.
Maybe get some rest, you know?”

“You too, kiddo. Take care.”

I pegged two more semi-suspecting and rather amused young men
(they actually love it when adults get weird in benign fashion),
before I acquired my final target - Austin.

Austin saw me coming.
He’d seen me whack (mostly gently) two or three
and the mischief in his eyes met the mischief in mine.
He was just an arm’s length away, almost within striking
when he stopped.

“Nope, nope, nope. You’re not getting me!”
And he began walking backwards.

“I’m not?”
I said, instantaneously deciding that I was, indeed, going to peg this particular kid.
I quickened my pace.

“No ma’am,” he taunted, “you’re not.”
It’s not easy taunting someone respectfully but he managed the feat smiling.
He moved quicker, not turning,
cruising backwards in athletic bounds,
pumping his arms and jogging his ridiculously fit footballer body
just out ahead of my ungracefully trotting old ladyness.

I shifted into less than smooth higher gear and he easily accelerated,
keeping the distance between us just that little too far,
his face beaming an absolutely maddening smile
He was showing me, seriously.

No. No. No.
What little adult was left in me evaporated.
There was no way in Hades this kid was going to get away with humiliating
my now completely exterior inner child
(no matter how much I had it coming).

I couldn’t catch him.
That was (nearly running as I was almost literally) painfully obvious.
I was at top chubby old idiot speed,
on the verge of hearing rude things from my long-suffering back
and the kid was enjoying the exercise way too much.

I didn’t think.
I swear I didn’t know I was going to do it until the deed was done.

Austin was shocked too,
so shocked that he misstepped as he saw me raise my hand above my shoulder
and fling the notebook at him with all the force an arm
that has been around more than half a century
could muster.

I watched the bound paper fluttering like a mad butterfly
as it crossed the gap between us
to hit him squarely in the center of his chest as he went down.
His two-a-days football training kicked in and he curled,
executing the most elegant backward roll I’ve seen outside of the Olympics.

For just a moment, I was horrified.
I was completely out of line.
What if Austin had hurt himself?
What if an administrator had rounded the corner and seen?
Oh my freakshow, what the hell had I done?

But that was just a flash,
less than a flash,
before my innate stupidity jumped back to the fore and I started to laugh.

As Austin popped to his feet, I doubled over braying between gasping breaths.
Bested by his better,
(he may be more physically fit, but I’m decades more evil)
Austin conceded the duel by picking up the notebook,
carefully smoothing its ruffled pages
and handing it back to me,
as though it were the prize ceremoniously presented to the victor
by the humbled vanquished.

I simply could not stop laughing,
and sat down on the carpet
leaning against the lockers until I could regain my composure.

A few minutes later, I held out my hand and let Austin haul me back up to my feet
like the fine young gentleman that he is.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Ms. Mack,”
Austin said most appreciatively.

Oh baby, you have no idea what I have in me.
No idea at all.

Last updated September 13, 2017